


Nasty, nasty boys, don't ever change

by heavvymetalqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Fingerfucking, M/M, Omorashi, Prostate Massage, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 14:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12483896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: “Remember when we first met, David?”Snake and Otacon do some experimenting





	Nasty, nasty boys, don't ever change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twilight Serpent](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Twilight+Serpent).



> fill for wish #124 "Omorashi/Pants wetting". Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Snake needed to piss.

His capacity to follow the events happening on the small laptop screen was dropping every couple of minutes as his bladder throbbed, almost painfully now, definitely on the uncomfortably full side. And this anime about the little kid with the bat was already hard to follow to begin with (nothing wrong with that, Snake enjoyed a bit of Lynch with his entertainment) and now he’d completely lost the thread an episode and a half ago.

All he could feel was his full bladder.

But, Otacon was sleeping, his head on his thigh, warm and relaxed. And he knew he hadn’t slept decently in a long while, too busy programming and keeping up their internet presence. It was mostly the reason he’d asked to be shown something. He hoped Otacon would unwind.

Snake was a goddamned super soldier, even if the silver hairs that had started prematurely appearing in his beard tried to claim the contrary. He could hold his piss for a little more to let his partner rest.

He'd been looking at the empty beer can on the side table for a while now, though.

He shifted a little, as slowly as possible, to uncross his legs, try to give himself a little bit more room for the increasingly full tank to rest. It didn’t really help. Otacon made a quiet sleepy noise, and Snake ran his fingers in his messy hair. His glasses were askew on his face and he was drooling a little.

He was so cute Snake forgot how much he had to piss for at least ten minutes.

But then, god, it was really starting to get uncomfortable, hitting the high point of discomfort that was right under pain. He raised his eyes to the dark ceiling, slowly counting to ten and backwards, willing himself another few minutes.

When he lowered them again, he noticed Otacon was awake, looking up at him with sleepy, unfocused eyes.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hmm. Did I fall asleep.”

“You did. Peaceful as a baby.” He shifted again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just, uh. Need to piss.”

Otacon rolled onto his back. His head still firmly on Snake’s thigh, in fact even more into his lap, _the danger zone_ one might say. “Really.”

“Yeah. Could you....?”

The smile that stretched Otacon’s stubbly lips was slow and straight up malicious, and if Snake hadn’t been so desperate for a piss, his dick would have definitely reacted to it. “Nah,” he simply said.

Snake swallowed. “It’s really quite urgent.”

“I see,” said Otacon. He reached up to loop his arm around his neck and pulled himself up, but instead of moving away, he straddled Snake’s legs, and pressed against him.

The sudden pressure might have made a tiny drop escape the tip of Snake’s cock. He hoped Otacon couldn’t feel it. He could feel it though, warm and soaking the front of his sweatpants, whispering promises of relief.

“Hal,” he croaked.

“Remember when we first met, David?” whispered Otacon tilting Snake’s head back to run his lips up his throat, press a wet kiss to the underside of his chin.

“I do.”

“I made such a fool of myself that time. Pissed myself right in front of a super soldier.”

“It’s a normal reaction to have when somebody is trying to kill you,” managed Snake, clenching all his muscles against a spasm in his lower abdomen, where Otacon’s hardening cock was flush against him. He was starting to feel as if his insides were getting stretched, and even Otacon’s little jostling was making his prostate throb against the pressure, swollen and needy.

But he needed to piss too much to get it up. And _that_ was definitely bordering on painful.

Otacon kissed up his jaw, closed his teeth on Snake’s earlobe, just a brief bite, but enough to startle another drop into Snake’s pants.

“Hal....”

“It would be fair play, wouldn’t it?” he whispered into his ear, and god, even as full as he was, Otacon’s low dominating tone made his cock twitch. “A piss for a piss.”

“Are you serious,” he gritted out, clenching all his lower muscles at once.

Otacon ground his ass onto his lap, slowly, torturously. “Extremely serious.”

“The couch....”

“We’ll throw it away. We’re gonna leave in two days, anyway.”

Snake swallowed. Heat was crawling up his throat and into his cheeks. He couldn’t believe what Otacon was asking him to do.

“Let go,” murmured Otacon on his lips. “Let it all out.”

Snake’s hands clenched on Otacon’s hips. He tried to resist, one last time, but it hurt and he was burning and he really wanted to get hard and Otacon was so heavy and pressing down and

he gasped in Otacon’s mouth as he let go and heat shot from him and into the front of his pants. Otacon ground down even harder.

God, it felt so good, and so disgusting. There was _so much_ of it, it seemed to go on forever, thick and painful through his agonizingly sore prostate. His pants were full, it was seeping under his ass, soaking into the cushion, and Otacon’s jeans.

“There’s a good boy,” was whispering Otacon, petting his face and his hair, like a dog. “That’s a good, good boy, look how much you had, it must have hurt....”

Snake sighed, piss _still_ somehow streaming out of his hardening cock. The sudden lack of pressure was incredible, and it made his body loosen just as the shame made it throb.

“Better?” chuckled Otacon, looking into his eyes while he sat in his quickly cooling lap. Sitting right in his piss, still hard.

God, he loved this freak so much.

“Yeah.” He grasped his head for a kiss, thrust up against him. The squelching noises were _disgusting_ , the grossest thing Snake had ever heard, and the wet cotton was already starting to chafe.

Otacon stepped off. His front was soaked. “Turn around,” he commanded, and Snake immediately turned, kneeling onto the cushions with a wet squeak, elbows on top of the backrest and his burning face buried in his arms.

Otacon tugged his soggy pants down to his knees. A puddle dripped slowly from his crotch and thighs. Snake’s cock was leaking with precome.

“So messy,” said Otacon with a quiet laugh, gripping one of Snake’s cheeks with a damp hand. “We’re so not getting our deposit back this time.”

Snake spread his knees as far as the sodden pants let him, pushing his ass out, _presenting_ , desperate for more of that contact. He bit his arm to choke a whimper when Otacon shoved two spit-slick fingers inside him, hooking onto his swollen prostate with the same precision he used to solder all those tiny parts to his motherboards.

“You’re so needy,” laughed Otacon, flicking his fingers against Snake’s prostate and making his thighs tremble. “Did holding it in turn you on?”

“It didn’t until _you_ made it hot,” grumbled Snake, or tried to. It's hard to grumble when your mouth only makes breathy, soft noises.

“Is that all it takes?” He pressed in deeper, one more finger inside Snake, stretching him, pressing harder than his bladder had, and he was so close... “Me asking you?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, pushing against Otacon’s long, strong fingers.

“So if I asked you to make more of a mess...”

Snake groaned, throbbing all over, biting through his arm.

“Come on,” hissed Otacon, leaning over him, thrusting fast, relentlessly. “Mess it all up.”

Snake came. Long thick spurts, ropey globs of come hitting the couch and the already drenched pants at his knees. Otacon laughed, kissing the back of his head, pushing his hip to flip him around.

Landing onto the cushion made a splashing sound, cold piss slick and cold against Snake’s bare ass.

Otacon popped his jeans open, offering his hard cock without a word.

Snake didn’t need words. He took him into his mouth hungrily, sucked hard and sloppy, spit and precome dripping into his beard. Otacon tasted sour, bitter. It took him a second to realize it was because he’d been sitting in Snake’s piss.

His stomach turned, but his heated body got even hotter. He lapped it all clean until he tasted just like Hal, the heady, salty flavor he loved so much, the tang of too many instant dinners they both had in their system weirdly comforting and familiar.

Otacon gripped his hair to pull him off. Snake left his mouth open, tongue out, drooling for it, as Otacon came all over his face, sticky and hot.

Snake sank back into the wet couch with a sigh, licking his lips. “Am I messy enough for you yet?”

Otacon was looking at him so hungrily it almost made him self-conscious. “Yeah, just about.”

“Can I go take a shower now, or do you want to take the hose to me like a dog?”

Otacon laughed, offering his hands even though Snake did most of the work getting to his feet, still wobbly. He kicked off the clammy pants and headed for the bathroom, Otacon in his wake. 

Getting clean felt extra good after getting so dirty.

“So how’s that called in Japanese,” he said after a while, massaging Otacon’s head with that gross cheap shampoo that smelled like the lockers in foxhound.

“That what?”

“What we just did. The piss thing. It has to be one of those Japanese fetishes, doesn’t it?”

“Dave, not every fetish has a Japanese origin, it doesn’t have...” it didn’t sound nearly as convincing when he didn’t have glasses to haughtily push up his nose.

“Hal.”

“:...Omorashi,” he muttered, lowering his head. “It means...”

“I think I can figure out what it means,” grunted Snake, pulling Otacon under the shower spray to wash off the suds in his hair.

“Sorry, I....was just curious. I hope I didn’t...you know...”

Snake tilted his head back, and sprayed water on his face. “It’s cool. I never told you to stop, did I?”

“Yeah.”

“Just...next time, we should probably put a tarp down or something.”

Otacon’s smile was worth a hundred, no, a thousand new couches.

 

 


End file.
